Maisie
Soren grabbed a scalpel in his other hand and moved in behind me.
"Don't you fucking dare–"
Mercer slammed me harder into the desk and I felt Soren's hand hook in the collar of my hoodie and yank it aside, exposing the side of my neck and the upper slope of my shoulders.
Tears stung my eyes. Any lower and he would find the scars underneath. And everything would've been for nothing.
But he didn't.
I felt the sharp press of the scalpel to my neck and then, the metal sank in. I cried out at the pain as he sliced even deeper, fingers steady but hard. I thrashed harder but Jericho and Mercer's grip were bruising, pinning me effortlessly. My cheeks stayed pressed to the table and I could feel every shift of Soren's body behind me.
Something small and cold pushed into the open wound, and I felt it in my body, heard it latch onto the inside of my skin.
